by Jolie Day
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Well, you’re my neighbor.” He started listing his reasons on his fingers. “You have an incredibly boring life. You’re a prude. You’re single, obviously…” With his emphasis on the last word, he began to piss me off. “And, I’ve seen how you stare at me. You can’t deny you’re dying to get into these gray sweats.” He calmly gestured to his crotch.
My mouth fell open.
What an asshat. I couldn’t believe the audacity of this man.
Usually, I’d take the hits and shrug it off, but tonight, he crossed a line. He was infuriating. His words were insulting. Nope, I was not having it. I set my glass down and stood to face him.
“You need to leave—right now. I already said ‘no,’ so we’re done here.”
This guy. Standing here in my apartment and thinking I wanted to get into his pants. Like I had ever wondered what he was hiding in there—utterly absurd. Probably nothing. Most likely nothing. Okay, the bulge was impressive, but, socks. He just stuffed old socks into his briefs. Several. Nothing was impossible. I mean, girls packed all kinds of things into their bras. Guys likely did crazy stuff like that, too.
I walked over and stood right in front of him, waiting for him and his gray sweatpants to leave.
He rose to his feet, but instead of leaving, he put his hands on my shoulders. The unexpected shock of his touch knocked the breath out of me—literally. I blanked.
“I’m just kidding,” he rumbled. “Geez, girl. Relax.”
I wanted to remove his hands, wiggle out of his grip, but his hold on my shoulders was firm. Just when a protest was forming on my lips, something changed in his expression.
“Rose. I really need this.” His gaze locked deeply into mine, seemingly trying a new direction of his pitch. “I am who I am, and that likely won’t change anytime soon. I’ve got no choice other than to pretend. I’ve racked my brain for a different solution. There’s none. As soon as I’ve got access to my inheritance, you’re off the hook!”
“I’m off the hook?” I couldn’t believe he was serious.
“Yes. Then you can go back to giving me the stink-eye in the elevator and secretly staring at my dick every day.” He cheesed a smile at me.
“Wow, so tempting.” I shrugged his hands off my shoulders.
Even when he tried to be sincere, he was hopeless, a pathological liar. The man was trying to ask me a favor but fanned the flames of my temper as he did so.
I mean, me? Being his fake fiancée?
Never.
Ever.
Not even if hell froze over.
Not even if he was the last man on Earth.
Not even if he didn’t have socks stuffed in his pants.
I was done with this nonsense.
I just gave him a blank stare, hinting that his two minutes were long over, and he needed to leave now.
Miles chuckled, dropping his head. Then, he seemed to remember something. His blue eyes lit up and stared into mine.
“I’ll pay you,” he said.
4
MILES
Okay, fuck! That did not help.
As I stared into her eyes, the massive brown beauties widened in shock. Before I could register what she was going to do, she’d slapped me. Fucking slapped me! Right across my left cheek. What the hell? It stung like a motherfucker. I rubbed my face. I frowned down at her. God damn.
“I am not a prostitute, you asshole!” She was shouting at me now.
I wanted to laugh. It was so ridiculous it was hilarious. “What? No, I didn’t—”
“Get the fuck out, Miles!”
The baggy sweater she was wearing hung low across those perfect tits. They bounced as she aggressively pointed at the door. She had on her yoga pants again. Of course, I’d enjoyed the view of her tight ass as I followed her in the apartment. Now, though, I observed the skin across her cleavage growing red. I couldn’t help but stand and watch the color of her smooth skin change, crawling up her breasts and along her chest. What did her naked breasts look like?
Whoa there. Maybe not the best time.
I shook myself out of a daze and the sudden arousal I felt—and looked back at her fuming face.
“Out!” she repeated, her arm still pointing, her tits still bouncing.
Her tantrum was distracting. Her nipples were puckered, pressing eagerly into the soft material of her sweater, and pointing right at me.
Trying to rectify the situation, I shook my head, and said calmly, “I didn’t mean it like that, geez. Chill, woman. I wouldn’t expect anything physical from you. Well, unless you want to get physical, that is.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have said the last part.
Her arm dropped. Her facial expression was priceless. I knew she’d blow her top any second. The redness had spread up her neck and reached her cheeks, which I had to admit, looked pretty fucking cute.
She took in a shaky breath to calm herself, before beginning her rant. “You’ve insulted me, you… you prick.”
“Prick?” I arched a brow in question.
“Yeah. I’m not the kind of woman you want. You already know that. And I certainly don’t want a man like you. You already know that, too. So, why don’t you go and proposition one of your chicks? Huh? I’m sure they’d only be thrilled!”
Of course, I’d already considered that.
It would’ve definitely been easier.
But the problem was I needed somebody who appeared responsible. And believable. She was the perfect candidate. Let’s face it, she was the only candidate.
Dad would buy her as my fiancée, for sure.
Because the good thing here was, Rose wasn’t only responsible, she had good traits, too.
She was smart, well educated, maybe even classy. She had a high-level job in marketing, if I wasn’t mistaken, so she wasn’t a stranger to our family’s lifestyle. There wouldn’t be a problem with her accompanying me to events and being able to participate in conversations. Her proximity was also perfect, because she already lived here, and I wouldn’t have to move in another woman—this was one of the best parts of all.
I wanted to avoid any kind of emotional mess as much as possible.
This needed to be a clean and smooth operation.
In. Out. Done.
However, now she was getting rather annoying with her shrieking. Where did the Ice Queen go? Things were escalating really, really quickly. For fuck’s sake, calm down. I’ve only asked you a simple question. Fiery was good and hot—better than lifeless, frigid and dry for sure—but don’t fucking burn me.
“Relax. Look, if I ask any of my chicks,” I shrugged, keeping my voice down, “they’ll just get their hopes up, and I don’t need that bullshit in my life.”
Silence.
“You think love and romance are bullshit?” She crossed her arms, arching a brow, clearly annoyed by my response.
“Yeah, I do. I need somebody who knows I’m not going to marry her.”
Rose gave me a narrow-eyed look, with her mouth hanging half-open. “Are you serious?” She seemed insulted again. “And you thought I’d be totally fine going along with your ruse, only to be fake-dumped at the end of it?”
“Yeah,” I said in exasperation.
What was so unclear about it? I couldn’t understand this woman. Did she not get that I only needed her to fucking pretend?
She stared at me with a blank expression.
Then it hit me. “Oh, I get it,” I said. “You’re jealous.” I stepped back and nodded, having figured her out.
“I am not,” she shrieked, her pitch rising even higher.
“Yeah,” I said, smirking. “You are.”
“Jealous of what?!”
“You hear those girls having the time of their lives in my bed while you lay here all alone in your bed, and that gets to you.”
Her mouth dropped open completely this time. “That’s insane. I don’t give a shit about your sexcapades!”
I moved closer to her, so clo
se I could almost feel her pokey nipples against my chest. But I made a point not to get too close that I accidentally touched her. I lowered my voice. “Maybe, if you weren’t such a rude cold shrew, you could get laid once in a while. I mean, by the looks of it,” I circled my finger around her, letting her know I was talking about her tantrum, “you haven’t had a dick in you for a very long time.”
Rose fumed.
If death stares could result in injury, I’d have two black eyes.
And no dick.
The color in her cheeks grew more inflamed as she stared at me in bewilderment. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
Okay, enough was enough. She’d dropped another f-bomb.
We were getting nowhere.
Judging by the current trend, there was no way to win this.
Had I really overstepped? Not really. Well, maybe.
Clearly, I’d pissed her off, and she needed to calm down—without me in her space. I didn’t have the energy, nor the will to deal with anymore of this high-pitched shit. I had to protect my eardrums. I had my own stresses to take care of. I had important matters on my plate. Billion-fucking-dollar matters to be precise.
Especially given that she’d now shot down the only plan I had so far.
Besides, I didn’t want to risk another slap.
And, I wanted to keep my dick.
With a deep breath, I attempted a somewhat peaceful goodbye. “You know what, don’t say anything now. Calm down, calm your tits, calm your lady bits, and think about it. You know where to find me.” I pivoted on my heel and headed out the door.
She followed, and before she slammed it shut behind me, she hissed, “I don’t need to think about anything. The answer is no! Never! Ever! Not even over my dead body!”
Jesus Christ. I went back into my apartment and banged my door shut as well. Because: who gives a shit. As I stood with my hands on my hips in my living room, I considered what to do next. Usually, when I was this worked up, I’d go for a run. Tonight, I didn’t feel like it—not to mention it was storming. I’d passed that point, anyway, and felt like my emotions had already run a fucking marathon. Now, I was just irritated.
Who did this woman think she was?
I didn’t even get to tell her how much I was going to pay her.
A million dollars.
Obviously, I wouldn’t expect her to do this for me without paying her well. Six months was a long fucking time.
It was a big ask—I knew—and I’d intended to compensate her accordingly, but she just assumed the worst.
Pouring scotch into a crystal-cut tumbler, I went to the balcony and took a seat. The view was spectacular, and I always found myself here when I needed to think. Right now, it was essential that I remained focused. I pulled out my phone and tapped on Damon’s contact info.
“Hey, man,” Damon answered after two rings.
“It didn’t work.” I sighed. “She slapped me.”
Damon let out a quick chuckle. The ass-bag didn’t seem shocked. “What the hell did you do?”
“I’ve got no fucking idea,” I said honestly. “Women. The whole idea is brilliant,” I continued. “My proposal was excellent. More than excellent. Uber-excellent.”
“Uh-huh,” Damon muttered.
“A win-win for everybody involved,” I went on.
“Uh-huh,” Damon repeated.
“She called me a prick.” I took a drink of scotch.
“I guess that’s a no,” Damon teased, laughter evident in his tone.
“What do I do now?” I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration.
“Look, man, forget the fiancée plan. Just lay low for a while, stop the alcohol, and stop the partying. Dedicate your time to something useful. Infrastructure and performance of our upcoming project. I know, I know—but dive into the shit your dad’s into. Get him on your side. Make him proud. Make yourself proud. You might find you like it more than what you’re doing now.”
“Damon, I told you.” He was starting to get on my nerves. “I am who I am. And you should know better than anybody else. I’m not changing.” I was adamant about this. I needed the fiancée plan to work. It had to.
“You know life isn’t just black and white. How about you try and find a girl? Fall in love? Marry her for real one day, maybe not in six months, but at least give it a try. I’m pretty sure that may be enough to show your dad that you’re respecting his wishes.”
“What makes you the expert?” I asked.
“Shut up, dick-bag. You called me.”
I remained silent for a beat. He was right. But this was me, this was how I dealt with life, and it wasn’t my fault that my “kicks” involved more fun or sex or whatever than his did.
“Let’s have a guys’ weekend,” I suggested, trying to get this back on track. “You, me, and Oliver. Some good old fun.”
Silence.
“I promise I’m not getting into trouble. No chicks. Drink ‘responsibly,’” I added, just to be sure.
I heard a sigh.
“I’ll talk to Oliver about taking out his yacht,” I pressed on. “We can spend a night in Providence.” I did enjoy taking out the yacht. Sailing was something my dad had taught both Oliver and me. We usually didn’t take a crew along with us. The point was to sail ourselves—that was the real therapy. It seemed like a great way to spend time with the guys.
“Sounds good, Miles. I’m in.”
“All right, man, stay safe.”
I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the table. Another swig of scotch burned a trail of fire down my throat, and I set it aside. Then, I lifted my arms to interlock my fingers behind my head.
Hours later, I tossed in my sleep. There I was, walking along the pathway through the college grounds toward Sarah’s dorm. Happy mood. Sarah. I’d decided to skip class that afternoon to find her. We were inseparable and perfect for each other. Sarah was beautiful, incredibly smart, and kinky as fuck. We’d actually started a game—every frat house party we went to, we’d have sex in one of the rooms or closets. We’d held up our streak so far. She’d been the only girl to drive me crazy and turn me on like that.
I loved her, and crazy enough, I already knew that, one day, I’d marry her.
She was the one.
We were still young, but with the passion we shared, I knew we’d be together for life—a power couple.
I entered the building and climbed the stairs. As I passed Sarah’s roommate, I nodded hello with a smile. She stopped and stared at me, wide-eyed. Alarmed. When I arrived at the door to their room, I frowned at her and then at the sock hanging from the door handle.
“What’s this?” A feeling of dread stirred deep in my gut.
If it wasn’t her roommate inside, then…
I opened the door. Before me was the scene that’d stay with me for life. My heart dropped to my ass. My supposed best friend Jake was not only here—in her room—but he was under her. Naked. They didn’t even notice me—they were so much into it. She moaned aloud in ecstasy as she rode him, hard and fast. Jake’s hands grabbed onto my girlfriend’s naked ass as they kept going.
All I could hear were the slapping sounds of their sweaty bodies colliding against each other—combined with the fucking deafening beating of my angry and breaking heart.
I startled awake. All sweaty and shit. What the fuck?
What an idiot I’d been. Biggest mistake of my life, that “woman.” Fucking rat, so-called best friend.
What a joke.
The outcome?
First, I’d beaten the shit out of him. I’d gotten a scar on my temple as a reminder—it’d been worth it. No regrets. No regrets whatsoever.
Second, I’d dumped her miserable, cheating ass.
Third, I’d made a vow to myself that I’d remain a bachelor for life. Marriage, and even love, for that matter, weren’t for me.
A few days later, Jake, the motherfucking cunt, jumped me a block from school with a few of his lackeys who used to be my fri
ends, too. Fucking low-life, pieces of shit. He probably told them a crazy story to deflect from the shit he’d pulled, breaking bro-code in the worst way possible. It’d have ended much worse, if it hadn’t been for Damon. He was the only one who saw through the bullshit. My brother Oliver hadn’t been there that day, and honestly, it was pure luck that Damon had walked by. He’d seen me bleeding on the ground, with four guys pummeling me.
He hadn’t even hesitated. What was it called when you go through hell together? I knew we gave each other shit. But that’s the guy he was inside. Courageous without fucking hesitation. A true brother.
And that was only the beginning of the story that’d set my life on this course.
Yeah, Oliver and Damon knew about what’d happened in college, but they didn’t know that I’d wanted to marry her. Fool. They didn’t know about the vow I’d made to myself, either.
I was not about to break it.
Especially not with only six months left between me and my inheritance.
5
ROSE
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
One day, I swear, I was going to push him down the elevator shaft.
The petty banter between Miles and me continued. Over the next few days, we’d pissed each other off, and we weren’t about to forget. At least, I wasn’t. It still irritated me that he’d thought I’d even consider acting as his fiancée. The thought was childish, and brash, and nothing like me.
When I noticed him around the building, I glared at him, and he’d just give me his self-obsessed smirk, as if he knew something I didn’t.
One morning I was running late. I’d gathered my things in a rush, closing and locking the door behind me. In my haste, I didn’t have time to check whether I’d closed my bathroom window which opened to a shared balcony, or if it was still ajar. I was certain I closed it.
I turned to see Miles, dressed in his sharp navy-blue suit, one hand in his pocket, and the other swinging his car keys around. He was waiting at the elevator and eyeing me coolly. I sighed and told myself to buck up.
